A Midsummer Night's Fling
by Chuck's Prophet
Summary: What happens when Castiel, servant under Dean Winchester, King of the Faeries, obtains a rose that holds the power to alter love? Supernatural goes A Midsummer Night's Dream. Established AU Wincest. Eventual Destiel and Sabriel. Mild spoilers up to season five. Rated T for mention of adult themes, kissing, and language.


**A/N:** This was an idea that came to me as I was watching Michael Hoffman's adaptation of Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ I'm not a huge fan of Shakespearean playwrights myself, but this one in particular is my exception. I've grown fond of the characters, especially Oberon and Puck.

For those of you who are not familiar with the play, do not fear. I prepared a shortened synopsis (the backstory to this piece) that goes a little something like this: In the city of Athens, Greece, there are four young people. Two of them are together in secret. Marriage is fixed. One of the couples decide to elope by running away through the forest, only to be followed by the other two who can't stand each other. The four get lost in the forest, there's a love triangle caused by a special rose given by Puck to Oberon, King of the Faeries, who was only trying to help the mortals. Puck is his servant who's incredibly noble to his King, but clueless at best. (Sound like two boys you know?) Meanwhile, Oberon is fighting for a rare half-human boy's life that his wife, Titania, is keeping under her wing... until she falls madly in love with Bottom, a mortal who's rehearsing in the woods for a big play in Athens._  
_

This was written for Jared Padalecki's birthday. I hope he enjoys the sequin dresses and braids for hair. (You'll see.)

As always, this goes out to my best friend, Eve. Thank you for listening to my pointless rambling about fictional people 24/7. One day I'll have saved up enough money from doing this professionally to buy myself a therapist. And a dedication to my former English teacher of three years for both introducing and casting me into this play. He has an bigger impact on my life than he'll ever know.

A huge thank you to my old and new followers. I am moved by your love and support.

**Disclaimer:** I am not fortunate enough to own the characters in Supernatural, nor the ones in Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream. _The words you are about to read are one hundred percent mine unless noted otherwise (such as the quote from the actual play below). The original plot belongs to William Shakespeare and has been altered for creative and fictional purposes.

Reviews are to me as candy is to a trickster: good or bad, I will still devour the sweetness.

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A Midsummer Night's Fling

**_"Shall we their fond pageant see?_**  
_**Lord, what fools these mortals be!"** ~ William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream_

Once upon a midsummer on the outskirts of Athens—and only once, for the forest was safeguarded by vigilant Night faeries who wouldn't let even the smallest morsel infiltrate through a patch of green—there was dusk. Today was one of those exceptions. Night rained through the hemlocks and into even the tightest timber crevices in aerated blues and purples. The climate had also felt stickier than usual, as if some outside force had gotten their grimy hands on the world thermometer and cranked it up more than a few notches.

Some faeries believe cripplingly in a force enacted on by mortals called Global Warming that causes these extremities in temperature. Others believe that it's a debauched omen from a higher power, threatening the sprites' land that would be nothing but a slate wiped clean by relic energy.

And most could give less than a rat's ass who's messing with the thermostat because there were parties that weren't going to throw themselves.

Inside one of the crannies, said party was taking place. Sprites valued nothing higher than their festivities—aside from their righteous King, of course. Castiel sat amid the revel, unwavering and unperturbed. Laughter and mirth filled the small cave, thrashing against his eardrums like the percussion that was playing vigorously in the background to a spontaneous tune. It wasn't as if the Castiel didn't want to partake in the activities. In fact, merriment was in the faerie's job description.

Castiel was King Dean's jest, exclusively. There was hardly ever a time when the faerie couldn't get a rise out of him. Sometimes, aside from the innocuous shenanigans and one-liners that would have Dean roaring to next Tuesday, he called upon his trusty sidekick for secret missions, usually ones that entailed great danger. Castiel loved these. It was in his nymph blood to be a soldier, fight for the good of his brethren. The women, the children, the merriment, those were the things _he _treasured most out of his primordial life, but not as much as his King. Usually, when he wasn't out basking in the revels, he was in his faerie tree, ditching the leaves around his midriff for certain fantasies about Dean. But Dean couldn't know how colossal Castiel's charity spread for his King. He worked through commotions, and the enticing sprite splayed before him would have to do.

"Come now, spirit! Where have you been wandering? Hopefully not too far from me…" He had heard the expression arise from Dean's mouth once and decided to give it a try. He added a wink, drinking in her features as she turned to the sound of his low voice. She had long brown hair with threads of gilt interweaved in the lively ringlets suspending just above her breasts. Her eyes were as dark as the silk lacing her petite stature.

She craned her head, a smile spreading across her high-arced face as she took a seat across from him. "You don't know the half of it, hon. I've toured through these forests quite often, but never have a stumbled upon a specimen quite like you."

"Is that a flirtation?" Cas asked, eyes narrowing in obvious misperception.

The sprite chuckled lightly. "You wish. I know who you are."

"You do?"

She nodded. "You're the King's pet. You do everything and anything that he damn-well pleases. If he told you to get down on all fours and wail like a baby bitch, you would ask if he wanted you stripped first."

Castiel chose to oversee the comment—especially now that he found himself involuntarily concocting the image in his head. "The King has matters of import to attend to. The Queen has found herself a demon boy, Jesse, and you know Samantha's history with demons. Dean is fighting for the child's refuge because the Queen wants nothing more than to drink the boy dry. The two are at each other's throats about it. I'm afraid he might resort to more… unorthodox methods to relinquish the boy from the Queen's hands."

"I'm sorry; do I have you mistaken for someone who gives two shits? Demons aren't our problem, and the Queen is a double-crossing whore. If the King wants this boy so badly, he'll have to kill her first."

Castiel's eyebrows knitted together again. "Wow, and they say chivalry is dead. I'm not sure I like your impertinence, faerie—"

"Meg," she said, seemingly unaffected by the insult. She stood up from the small table. "Next time you want to pick up a girl, Clarence, make sure you keep the arousal under your rags when you talk about the King." With that, she meandered off into the mingling crowd, leaving the sprite to a half-empty beverage and a mangy member.

-SPN-

When two lovers were at variance with one another, especially when the lovers in question were the monarchy of the forest, it was incredibly hard not to overhear. Dean's voice was the first to arise through the whistling trees, something about how he knew of his wife's affections toward a human named Balthazar, to which the Queen rattled off something to the extent that he had a bigger scrotum than her husband. Then the argument escalated to the demon boy and his fate, that to which Castiel had to eavesdrop on. If the King was threatened under any circumstances, even if it was by his Queen, it was in his contract to put him out of harm's way.

"He's mine and I found him first!"

Sam sat on her queen-sized foliage bed, her husband not quite joining her on the edge. Even though she garlanded her tall, slim stature in sequin dresses and wore a big, bright tiara on top of long, chocolate braided hair, she was anything from acting like a Queen.

"Really, Sam, that's your argument? I can't believe how childish you're behaving!" Dean roared gesturing to the boy intertwined not-so-securely in his wife's arms. "This boy is a child; _you _are a twenty five, for my Sake!"

Sam sat there, gaping at her husband. "You're unbelievable! First you insult my beautiful baby boy, and then you bring age into the equation!"

"He's not your—" Dean knew as well as Castiel that it was useless debating with a woman. "Just give me the boy, sweetheart, and everything will be right as rain."

In the bat of an eye, Sam was standing on the other side of the forest with the demon boy underneath her long, slender fingers as she combed through his fine hair. Her features were glowing with euphoria that shouldn't be placed in the hands of a madwoman—and especially not in hers.

"I'll be stronger, honey, you'll see. I'll make the apocalypse look like a fucking merry-go-round. Then I'll burn this whole damn forest to Hell, but not before I take you down with me."

In another flash she was gone, along with the boy with the power to destroy the kingdom. Dean cursed to the night sky before transporting his weight from the bed to a high glacier overlooking the vast timberland. He stood up and pounded his arms fiercely into his thighs as he tossed his head to the sky again, mumbling a soft prayer:

"Cas, I could really use your help here. Sam's got the boy, and frankly, I'm running out of options. All I know is that I need you here."

"You called upon my services, your Majesty."

Dean turned swiftly around only to find his words lost in fixation on the jest. Cas was beautiful; from his tousled dark tresses and vibrant blue eyes to his slender but strong gilded trunk and legs that never failed to capture his member's attention. Of course he had learned how to yield the muscle of its erect formality over the years. He had seen almost every aesthetic part of the faerie, but never in his centuries of existence had he grown an immunity to be comfortable around him; a man so simple, yet so magnificent in his ordinary eyes. Castiel was the moon to Dean's lone wolf howling at the traitorous sky. His soft, but radiant blue eyes were the beacon to his misguided boat in a raging storm.

"Cas, you, uh—you know you don't have to call me royalty like a hand servant. Loosen up; you're my partner."

_And if only he had meant sexually,_ Castiel thought, imbibing in Dean's own body like he had unwittingly known Dean was doing. Dean was much stronger with large, rounded spheres underneath his sun-kissed arms and a chest as graced as an archer was during the day. But it was his eyes that held his attention, large emerald stones that bore into his faerie soul like a man possessed. He would occasionally compliment the King on his strong features, to which Dean would just laugh at the nonsensicality in the statements. But the fact was that he was beautiful, and if Dean didn't believe that, then Castiel would just have to pay him the same jaded compliments until the turn of the century.

He shook his head, dispelling those musings. "R-right, of course, Dean. Sometimes I can be forgetful. What was it that you requested of me?"

Dean flashed him his winning smile in the form of a laugh, pearly whites and all, before settling on the hard surface. Cas concealed his scarlet cheeks and leaped to his side, daring to sit closer than usual. Hopefully Dean wouldn't mind, or notice for that matter. To his luck—and somewhat disappointment—he didn't.

"I'm at my wits end with Sam," he said, rubbing his temples for emphasis. "There's a field about a few miles east of the sun. As legend has it, this meadow is the only garden that's been struck by Cupid's arrow. I need you to fetch me a flower there, a rose to be exact. Among the flowers that corroded with time, there's one rose left that still holds the residue of the cherub's magic. This flower is said to harness the power to completely alter a person's perception on love. Any man or woman to fall victim to the charm is basically like a lost puppy looking for its master. I need you to fetch me that rose before nightfall. There's an Athenian man wandering the woods who goes by the name of Gabriel. He's known by his human friends to be tricky, so be careful hunting him down. He's also a little bit of an ass, so use a little pixie magic and turn him into one. I'm going to put a little bit of angel dust on Sam's eyes while she's sleeping. Make sure Gabe is below her, that way when she wakes up she'll fall completely and madly in love with—well, an ass."

Castiel listened intently to his King's words. Find a rose, bring it to Dean, track down mortal, turn him into a mule, and lead the horse to water (pun definitely intended). That sounded like an infallible plan. "As you wish, Dean," he replied, though his body was still very much strapped to the rock. He was looking at Dean even more heartily than usual—if that was even possible.

"Uh—Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"That's your cue to strap on your faerie wings and fly away now," Dean said, noting the close proximity between his and Cas's lips.

Cas shook himself from writing a novel about Dean's lips long enough to respond, "Oh, uh—right," he said clearing his throat absentmindedly, "I won't fail you, sir." He stood up—trying very hard not to notice that his leg and arm grazed Dean's in the process—and took off faster than Dean could say Dayenu.

-SPN-

Tracking down a rose was the least of Castiel's mission. In the meadow that Dean spoke of stood a bright rubicund rose amid an encasement of elapsed flowers. _("Thank you, Castiel," Dean said, twirling the flower around in his hands and flashing him another smile brighter than a thousand seething suns.)_ It was the tracking down a mortal part that Dean had him confused for being the easy part of the job. There were at least half a dozen other humans in the forest around twilight. And they weren't just idling around. No, they were prancing and dancing and yelling and howling at the unforeseeable moon, over what he had no idea. It _kind of_ looked like acting or theatre to some degree—and by some he meant very little—but he couldn't be sure. If this is how humans behaved outside of an everyday regime, he didn't want to know how they looked when they were sitting at home chowing down pork loins.

That was the other thing: they all looked the same. Every mortal among the throng was male, that he discovered by the robust voices and the inane predisposition to urinate on any nearby foliage. But they all acted the same. The only way he knew how to tell them apart was by the names that they shouted when they weren't "acting" under fake ones. From what he picked up, there was Raphael with the darker-toned skin and deepest voice. Samandriel was the youngest looking one with the flaxen-colored wig plopped on his head. Michael was the dark-haired boy with a sharp face, and Gabriel was the shortest one of the group who apparently played Samandriel's love interest, Pyramus.

Note to self: never look into the art of anthropological theatre.

He could think of no other way to lead Gabriel astray from his pack then to bribe him with something he knew humans craved for most (other than sex): sugar. He cloaked his form in "pixie dust" and meandered over to a Gabriel, where he began to meticulously plant a candy trail. And by his King, if this mortal didn't love candy as much as the next human. Gabe spotted the first piece and followed the trajectory that lead deeper into the forest and ended below the Queen's bedding. When he was too preoccupied in eating the fun-sized bites, Cas raised his hand and blew pixie dust over his face. Gabe turned around, startled by the new but undistinguishable presence behind him and the transformations began. Gabe's long brown hair turned into a safekeeping for his big, floppy grey ears and the extra growth on his face jutted out into a long, pointy chin. The best part was when he turned around to face his nagging friends, only to have them scream in horror at the new atrocity and all Gabe could rejoin with was a jagged _hee-haw._

Dean eyed him from below, where he lay hovering over his wife, prepared to douse her in pedal juice. "That's what you get, bitch," he heard him whisper into her ear. Cas tried not to get distracted when Dean pitched him a wink that sent him stumbling ever so gracefully over a bush. Luckily he had vanished by then so he couldn't see the fall. Cas cursed under his breath and stalked out of the woods, away from those puny humans and their foolish games.

The next morning when Sam awoke, she was in for quite the surprise.

-SPN-

Gabriel Novak had never been one for practical jokes unless he was the one behind them. On a dreary night like this one, he happened to be on the receiving end of a cruel Just Desserts. He could handle it when his friends had called him an abomination (after all, it wouldn't be the first bad name used against him). He could even handle it when they tried to avert his fixation on them by running away. What he couldn't handle was them fleeing the scene only to have them never to return. _Some friends,_ he thought bitterly, _to leave me to myself in the middle of a God-knows-what infested forest. _

He would yell, but it would probably only result in a weird donkey noise. _What the hell was that about, anyway?_ Instead, after minutes of finally drawing the conclusion that his idiot friends weren't coming back for him, he began to hum to a familiar melody. Next to eating candy, singing was the one activity that never failed at calming his nerves. Some notes were sourer than others, but nothing that he couldn't fix with the next verse (he was an actor, not a singer). The same animalistic noise escaped his mouth, and he sighed in exasperation before writing it off as another weird anomaly of the day.

That is, until it caught a certain Majesty's attention.

"What beautiful voice awakens me from my slumber?" she chimed, causing the ass of a man to swivel around to meet the eyes of a total goddess. She was lying atop fortress of leaves and swathed in the most extravagant jewels he had ever seen. Her long plaited hair was dangling over the edge as she glanced down, rubbing her hazel eyes to see human better. He stood there for a moment, too stunned by her beauty to speak. Then she spoke again, this time more annoyed: "I'm talking to you, donkey human. That's kind of your cue to climb into my bed and have angry sex with me."

Gabriel was swallowed by the night faster than any mortal could dare dream—in more ways than one.

-SPN-

Dean was fast asleep by the time that Cas reported back to base. He looked so serene, laying there among the stars. He had one arm bracing his bare stomach and the other tucked behind his head for support. (_How he coveted to be one of those hands.)_ He hadn't noticed before, in all the previous nights that Castiel had to watch over him while he slept, that his eyes fluttered with the unforeseeable motions behind his retinas. He couldn't help but wonder what he was dreaming of that made him react so vigorously. His fingers began to convulse in sync with his large breasts every so often, and Cas had to wonder each time if he should rouse his King from his slumber. After all, if he wasn't having restful dreams, then he wasn't resting at all.

He decided after a long internal debate not to awake him. He reclaimed the rose resting over his King's stomach, weaving the object in his clumsy fingers a few times. Some of the flower's nectar dribbled into the palms of his hand. He studied the warm essence encompassing around the fine lines that rested there before glancing back at Dean, a lazy smile crossing his face. It was a hell of a risk—and definitely one that entailed going against the King—but it was one foolish enough for a jest to take.

He dabbed the remainder of the thin red liquid over Dean's eyes. He watched with marvel as the cherub magic enacted, flouting into small rubicund atoms that danced around his eyelids before resolving on his weary skin. He took a moment to admire the celestial's well-structured features before making another audacious move. As soundlessly as a centuries-old faerie could be, he swung his legs over Dean's hips, using his knees to straddle him in place. Dawn was approaching at rapid pace and he would be damned if his King fell in love with a Tree Nymph when he awoke. He smiled down at his master, gliding a silent finger down his torso while he awaited his awakening. _Yes, just as firm as I had suspected. _

He thought he felt something stiff underneath his duster after the new contact, but it could very well have been a figment of his imagination, or just hopeful thinking. Either way his small faerie stature _was_ growing fatigued. He thought of drifting off himself until Dean stirred from his sleep, emerald eyes coming into focus with the figure above him. Cas smiled down at Dean as he felt his warm breath prickle against his neck and his spine arched like a feline's. He was at least a foot away from his face—of all the things that slipped his mind, the servant had not forgotten about the personal space rule—but was close enough to lean in and place a chaste kiss on his plump lips. He thought better of it when Dean was gaining full consciousness.

"W-where am I? What happened?" he asked, head swaying with drowsiness. He looked above him, into Cas's deep cerulean eyes—or so he thought. His brooding face softened and he locked gazes with the object of his affection. "Oh Tree! Where have you been all my life?"

The faerie he swung his body a one quarter of the way to find a large hemlock casting over them. Never had he been more furious with flora in his life.

Then he felt a deep-seated tingling rising from the King's abdomen. He sat up straighter so that Cas's legs weren't digging into his thighs and threw his head back in an odious laugh. He seized Dean by the shoulders, pinning him to the ground again.

"Dean Henry Winchester," he scolded like a child, "I gave _everything _for you, and this is what you give me in return? You just can't seem to open those emeralds of yours far enough to see that I'm completely and madly in love you and if you think for a second that I'm going to stand aside and watch you fornicate with a tree, you have some nerve—"

Before the nymph could finish his thought, Dean's hands were darting out to pull Castiel's head down and into his lips. Cas's eyes shot open in surprise before realizing that Dean wasn't retracting from the embrace any time soon. He closed his eyes and returned the action heartily, moving his hands behind Dean's caramel hair to swipe his tongue across his lower lip. Dean complied with the silent request, brushing the tip of his tongue across Cas's teasingly. Cas's heart was thrashing like a mallet against his chest when Dean flipped him on his back so that he was on top, bracing his chest.

"Cas," he said, more as an attempt to catch his breath, "I know what you did last night."

His mouth went dry. "Y-you do?"

"Yeah, that's why I reversed the spell before it could take effect."

"What—how did—?"

"Cas, please; they don't call me the King for kicks. I have a few tricks under my sleeve."

"But—I—well, I mean, why?"

Dean laughed at the sprite's attempt to keep calm about the situation. He reissued his hand around his head, this time running his hands through the thick curls that rested there. _He was so naïve. _"Cas, don't you get it? I've been in love with you for centuries. I've just never had the right mind to tell you. Sam was right about one thing: my scrotum is too small. I should have told you a hundred years ago."

Castiel leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his mouth to cleanse him of his doubt. "Dean, there's nothing wrong with your reproductive organs,"—Dean laughed lightly at that—"you just couldn't find the will to tell me. To think, all these years I thought that I was the one afraid of professing my love, when you were just as equally petrified."

"Hey now, I'm the King of the forest; I'm never afraid," he justified.

"But Dean, you spent eons hiding behind heterosexuality while you were in love with—" Dean cut him off with another embrace, this time allowing his tongue to slip inside and explore the crevice that was the sprite's mouth.

"Enough with the synopsis, Cas," he said. Dean began kissing and sucking his throat. The faerie shuddered with the new contact. He waited a while before speaking up again.

"What about the Queen?"

Dean's response came in a mutter on Cas's scarlet skin. "Sam owes me this one."

And indeed she did. The Queen fell head over heels (or hoofs, depending on who you asked) for the ass, which completely averted her attention from starting the apocalypse. The demon boy Jesse was returned to his home, where he lived out the rest of his somewhat normal childhood with his mundane family.

And as for the King and his servant… well some might say that after Castiel became his new Queen, the two were a powerhouse emblem for monarchy. Others believed that their Rajah was better off without the man distracting him from his ethical responsibilities.

But only the two men who crafted the story knew of the passion they held within their hearts that started and ended with a midsummer night's fling.


End file.
